


Flowers and Balloons

by HashHag88



Category: IT - Stephen King, Pennywise - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Derry (Stephen King), Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Licking, Original Character(s), Pennywise (IT) Being an Asshole, Pennywise (IT) is His Own Warning, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashHag88/pseuds/HashHag88
Summary: Iris didn't come back to her childhood home on her own accord but now she can't seem to leave.
Relationships: Pennywise (IT) & Original Female Character(s), Pennywise (IT)/Original Character(s), The Losers Club & Pennywise (IT)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

The sounds of sirens awoke Iris with a jolt as a sense of panic settled over her. Twin flashes of red and blue flickered across her ceiling and disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared as the ambulance zoomed down the street, leaving her in an uncomfortable silence. The nightmare she’d awoken from was retreating into the deepest crevices of her mind. She never remembered what she was dreaming about but would often awaken in a cold sweat with her heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears and the sense of being watched despite the fact she lived alone. Well, almost alone.

She ran a shaky hand through her red hair and glanced down to see her Persian cat Shawshank who had stopped grooming himself midlick to watch her through narrowed auburn eyes in the darkness of her bedroom. One of the first things she’d done when she moved out on her own was adopt a cat. Iris had always wanted a pet, but her parents had always forbidden it under the guise animals were expensive and too much responsibility.

There was a creak somewhere in the house and then silence.

Iris hated being here but after the untimely death of her parents, she had inherited her childhood home and she had found herself sucked right back into Derry, Maine. Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford this house and her apartment back in Castle Rock so until someone bought the house, she would be stuck living off the money her parents left her in their premature demise. She never had much of a relationship with them, even as a child which seemed to be a common denominator when it came to the inhabitants of Derry and their offspring. Sure, it looked like every other small town in Maine, but Iris always thought of it as a wolf in sheep’s clothing and something always felt off about the city. While there were rumors that Castle Rock made people do bad things, Derry seemed to make people forget about the bad things that happened to them.

Unexplained murders and disappearances plagued the inhabitants and yet, days later, life was back to normal as if it had never happened. It was something that Iris had tried to speak about with others and yet her spouting would be brushed off as just that, delusions. Even when she had come back months ago to deal with funeral arrangements and hear the reading of the will, no one could give her answers how her parents died and now it was as if Diane and Roger Black had never even existed in anyone’s minds besides Iris’s. She had been so happy to leave this godless place and never look back and to be sleeping in the room she’d grown up in made her grit her teeth.

And yet try as she might, she couldn’t get rid of this house. It wasn’t in terrible shape, the stairs needed new carpeting and the basement wasn’t finished but the two-story house was like her parents, it was almost like it didn’t exist anymore. Like she didn’t exist. She hadn’t heard from the relator bitch in weeks. People saw her of course, but it was like she slipped from their minds the moment they turned their back to her. Even in school, Iris was never recognized for her academics or gift for playing the piano. She was the definition of a wallflower and while it bothered her as a child growing up, now she didn’t mind. Once she had accepted her loneliness, it was no longer something she grudgingly accepted, it was something she embraced. Although it was times like this when she wished she and her house stood out. She was practically counting down the days until she could leave Derry. It made her feel as if she was constantly being watched by something just out of sight.

Shawshank interrupted her thoughts, climbing her legs with a purr. Iris ran a hand through his nearly blood orange fur with a half-smile, using her free hand to rub her eyes and contemplate her day. She didn’t have a job, not a real one anyway. Most of her income came from random side things; babysitting brought in the most, but she also enjoyed gardening and would help the elderly women in her neighborhood whose hands were too arthritic or too shaky from Parkinson’s to pick up a shovel. Iris was trying to keep from spending too much of her parent’s savings, her father’s voice coming to mind anytime she delved into the account, his cheap ways haunting her from beyond the grave.

_“You have to PAY for an application?” his loud booming voice had vibrated the dining room walls; he was appalled she had asked to borrow money to apply for a community college in the neighboring city._

_“Dad, it’s just thirty dollars I can pay you back. I’m picking up extra babysitting jobs in a couple weeks please,” Iris had pleaded with her father. She was fresh out of high school and college was her only real escape from Derry and she knew it._

_“I don’t know why you want to go to some fancy school anyway Iris, what’s wrong with working with your mom at the bread factory?” he had tossed the pamphlet onto the rectangular dining table and motioned toward the woman sitting with her back to them in the den, engulfed in some television show and halfway through a bottle of liquor._

He didn’t understand. People like her parents were happy to live in this dull little town and live out their dull little lives and die dull little deaths. It was as if nothing existed outside of Derry, although Iris supposed to them, nothing did. It seemed almost poetic that they’d died under mysterious circumstances, their end being the only real break in tradition they’d ever experienced.

“Good morning Shank,” Iris shook her head and scooped the feline under her arm and threw back the covers to begin her morning routine.

* * *

“Well shit,” Iris was emptying the last can of cat food into the little ceramic bowl, Shawshank meowing expectantly for his breakfast. The smell of gravy and nameless meat permeated the air and Iris wrinkled her nose at the sickening plop sound the pate made as it slid from the aluminum can. She’d have to make it out to the grocery store today, Shank would surely smother her in her sleep if she didn’t give him his daily can of wet food. Glancing into the pantry, she was met with a relatively barren sight as well. Groceries in general probably weren’t a terrible idea.

An hour later, she was dressed in her favorite floral print dress, the cotton fabric falling just below her knees. Standing at a unexciting height of five foot four inches and sporting a head of scarlet hair and the white skin that accompanied natural redheads, the only thing truly distinctive about Iris were her eyes, an unsettling shade of sangria that was her namesake.

The September sun was out with a vengeance already and the moment Iris stepped out into the morning glow, she had to shield her eyes with a hand from its glare. It was already muggy and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and yet, suddenly a cold shiver passed through her out of nowhere. There was something in the air almost, something distinct that Iris couldn’t put her finger on. It dissolved just as quickly as it appeared, leaving the young woman with an uneasy feeling nestled in her stomach.

“Good morning Iris!” a little girl’s voice pierced the air and Iris looked up with a jolt to see the six-year-old grinning a few yards away at her as a yellow school bus rumbled and burped down the sleepy road towards them. Milly Brown was the youngest of the Brown siblings, her older brother Charley attended the high school and was only a few years younger than Iris.

“Morning Milly, where’s your mother?” she looked around for the single parent. Milly was starting kindergarten today, Iris figured she would be seeing her child off. Mr. Brown had run off a few months after Milly’s birth according to Charley.

“She had to go to work, she just left.” The bus stopped and the door opened right in front of the beaming girl who flashed her another genuine smile before climbing aboard without a second look back. “I’ll see you later Iris!” Iris felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Her mother was one of her most frequent clients and Milly was at her house in the evenings at least three or four times a week despite the fact her mother got off work at two pm. It bothered her how inattentive she was with her children and reminded Iris of her own negligent parents. The bright-eyed child was one of Iris’s favorites and she wished she had been born anywhere but Derry.

Climbing into her rusty Toyota Camry and starting the sputtering engine, Iris drove off towards the grocery. She would need to get her errands done quickly so she could have time to get everything put away before she went to Mrs. Reeds house that afternoon. The retired schoolteacher had found some lily plants on sale and wanted them put in along her walkway and Iris was happy to help. The woman couldn’t get out of her wheelchair to plant flowers anymore, but she had singlehandedly taught Iris how to bake the most delicious cakes and cookies; a skill she had begun to pass down to Milly during their time together.

The store was mostly empty Iris noticed as she parked her car, which was fine with her. A lack of human contact throughout her nineteen years of life had left her with an almost crippling anxiety of social situations.

Humming a tune, Iris grabbed a basket and began her shopping, enjoying the silence each isle offered as she filled it with necessary food items for both her and Shawshank. It only took her minutes to collect everything she would need for the week. As she entered the checkout lane and placed her wares on the conveyor belt, the buzz of a radio caught her attention. The cashier had a small handheld device nestled beside him as he rang up her purchases. He was a tall balding man who looked to be around forty. 

“A local man named Adrian Mellon was found on Mangrove street this morning mauled to death in what the authorities are calling the worst animal attack they’ve seen in years…” the voice hummed in and out, only small excerpts making it through the fuzzy reception. Iris’s heart leapt. That’s why she’d been awoken by sirens this morning. Mangrove street was just two roads over. It struck Iris as odd. There were no large predators in Derry, although the occasional coyote could be heard at night. Coyotes didn’t kill grown men though, Iris frowned.

“Awful shame. Ya know, the same thing happened when I was your age. They never did find out what was taking all those kids,” the cashier informed with a tsk as he finished ringing up the food items and gave Iris the total. She watched him with careful eyes as she took in his words. It struck Iris as odd. No one ever brought up the past in Derry. They simply didn’t remember it.

“What did you say?” His eyes seemed to glaze over almost as he finished speaking and Iris gave him a concerned look as she paid for her things.

“About what?” his voice was slow and deliberate- almost as if it weren’t his own. “You just said this same thing happened when you were my age. About something taking children,” Iris insisted. He stood there giving her a soft smile and shook his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about ma’am. Are you feeling alright?” He handed her the receipt with a furrowed brow.

“Um, yeah, I guess. Thanks,” she managed, taking her purchases without another word. She didn’t understand why people didn’t remember things, but she’d never witnessed such a thing as the situation with the cashier. She’d often wondered herself why it didn’t affect her as well but again she was left with more questions than answers.

Iris hurried to her car without looking back. 

* * *

“Mrs. Reed?” Iris called out as she knocked on the door again. She was sure Mrs. Reed had said to come by at noon and it wasn’t like her to not answer.

She checked the door handle and sure enough it was unlocked. The inside of the elderly woman’s house smelled like a nursing home, but it was clean and neat. Mr. Reed had died years ago, but there was a nurse who dropped by every day to check on the woman at the insistence of her daughter who lived in New Hampshire.

“Mrs. Reed, are you home?” Iris stepped further into the house, glancing around for any trace of her. She had just entered the kitchen when a gasp fell from her lips. Mrs. Reed was slouched and unmoving in the corner by the small kitchen table, head hanging on her shoulder.

“Oh my God- Mrs. Reed!” Iris called out louder and rushed over to her, shaking her by the shoulders. She was warm so that ruled out the possibility of her being dead, Iris thought thankfully in the back of her mind. The senile woman roused and looked up at her with a furrowed brow.

“W-what’s going on? Iris?” she croaked, looking around in bewilderment.

“Oh, thank God,” Iris breathed a sigh of relief, finally able to breathe. “Are you alright Mrs. Reed?” “Heavens dear I’m fine... must’ve dozed off waiting for you,” She yawned and straightened herself in her chair. “Are you ready to plant those lilies?” Iris laughed half out of solace, half out of insanity, shaken to the core at the reality of the situation and how badly this could have been.

“Yes Mrs. Reed I’m ready.” The woman had practically given her a heart attack and she was only concerned with flowers.

A few hours later, Iris was taking a break from planting the mixture of Zephyranthes to pull her hair up off her neck into a messy bun atop her head. The late summer sun was hanging high in the sky and she was only about halfway done. Mrs. Reed was sitting in the shade with a glass of tea and a book and Iris gave her an envious glance. As much as she enjoyed gardening, she hated to be hot. Spring was her favorite season, she loved rainy days and cool weather. Summer was unforgiving and… sweaty.

She had just bent down again to pick up a pot of baby pink rain lilies when she noticed a speckle of red on one. Bringing the flower closer to her face to inspect it, Iris gasped. It looked like a droplet of blood. Looking down at her hands and body, she didn’t see any cuts or abrasions to explain where it came from. Cocking her head in confusion, Iris frowned, wiping the vermillion droplet off the pink petal, leaving a faded red smear on the delicate surface.

Just as she went to unpot the lily plant, another drop appeared, this time twice the size of the original. Iris watched it as it seemed to grow, much as if the plant itself was bleeding the crimson life itself. The droplet beaded up and fell from the flower, splashing onto Iris’s blue jeans that she’d changed into and flowering out on the worn denim.

“What the…” She brought the flower up to her face again, intrigued yet astounded as red began riveting out of the rose-colored flower at a steady rate, falling from her hand warm and thick.

“Come play with us pretty lady,” a disembodied child’s voice whispered. Iris sat the plant down, unable to fully comprehend what was happening as the rivet became a stream, pouring onto the grass and covering Iris’s shoes that were frozen to the spot. “Pretty flowers for a pretty lady…”

She could only watch in sickened horror as something began to emerge and wiggle from the center of the blood-soaked plant as if the blossom was somehow giving birth to the unidentified object. It was the size of Iris’s thumb and was growing at a steady pace, bubbling up and inflating quickly as if filling up with air.

It was… a balloon? It was cherry red and despite the blood covering pouring out around it, the rubber was shiny and spotless, growing until it was the size of her face. Despite being frozen in fear, Iris managed to glimpse over at Mrs. Reed who somehow didn’t seem to notice the Hellish sight happening only a few feet in front of her. Iris couldn’t find her voice to scream as the balloon emerged completely from the carmine pool and began to float somehow despite the laws of physics and the lack of a breeze. It came up by her face and stopped for a millisecond before meandering slowly up and up, past the roof, above the treetops and continuing until it was just a mere red dot in the sky.

Iris watched it, craning her neck until it disappeared. Dropping her head, she was left open mouthed when in front of her, was the plant she’d dropped, perfectly normal and happily pink albeit a little crushed from the fall. She looked around incredulously, for any sign that she had not been hallucinating.

“Iris dear, is everything alright?” Mrs. Reed’s aged voice broke her concentration and she whipped around to look at the woman.

“D-did you see that?” Iris’s voice was barely above a whisper, unable to fully grasp what she had just witnessed, but at least she was finally able to move her legs. Backing up, almost afraid to turn her back on the scene in front of her for fear it would appear again, she nearly fell into Mrs. Reed as she stumbled over her words.

“The flowers… there was a balloon…”

“Honey are you feeling okay? I think the heat is starting to get to you, how about you sit in the shade with a glass of tea for a while?” Her blue eyes watched Iris from behind her bifocals with a worried motherly look. That was the second time today someone asked her if she was feeling alright and she was beginning to question her sanity a little. Iris’s heart was pounding against her ribcage riotously and she tried to settle her breathing as she sat on the grass next to the retired schoolteacher, accepting her invitation.

Maybe she was right, it was a hot day and she was out there with no protection from the indiscriminate sun. She thought back to that voice. It had seemed so familiar.

It wasn’t until the next morning when Iris was sitting in front of the tv did she finally recognize the voice. She had flipped the news on for background noise and settled into her favorite armchair with a cup of hot tea when a picture of a girl with blonde hair and a large birthmark on her cheek flashed across the screen. Iris nearly choked on her tea, sputtering and coughing as she hastily sat down the piping coffee mug and turned up the television.

“Victoria Fuller is now considered missing. She was last seen attending a sport event at Derry High School last night and officials are urging…” Iris faded out, no longer hearing the words of the newswoman describing what the girl was last seen wearing. Iris had babysat for the Fuller family just a few weeks ago while her parents went out of town.

How did this happen? How had Iris heard her voice from the flowers? Her mind was spinning. Was this it? Was Iris Black finally losing her mind? She shuddered to think about the alternative. There was always something off about Derry. She had the dark suspicion that whatever that was, it had something to do with this.


	2. Chapter 2

A week later Iris was cleaning up the dishes from supper and humming a song to herself, the savory scent of garlic and basil still hung in the air of the kitchen. Milly sat at the kitchen table enjoying a pastry for dessert and coloring in a book she’d brought over from her house. Her mother was running late as usual, but Iris would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the company especially after the day of Adrian Mellon’s death. Things were back to normal, at least that’s what the young woman chose to think, and it wasn’t difficult to believe such a thing as long she didn’t notice the slowly accumulating flyers on the telephone pole near her house. 

There was a stab of guilt in her stomach. She had noticed though; it made her restless at night and she had considered telling someone what she saw, or at least perhaps getting a mental health evaluation.

Iris bit her lip and scrubbed the spaghetti sauce from the plate in her hand harder, the steam from the hot frothy dish water drifting up and caressing her face before evaporating into the atmosphere. The sun was only just beginning to set, and the last dying rays filtered through the small window in front of the dingy sink, leaving Iris’s white tee shirt bathed in pink and orange. The trees that lined the backyard and separated Iris’s property from the Barrens were fading to black and resembled claw tips reaching for the sky when the young woman looked at them too long. 

A motion out of her peripheral caught her momentarily off guard. Glancing up, a shadow at the tree line caught her eye. Something moving slow and deliberate. Iris narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, placing the clean plate in the drying rack.  
It looked almost like a large black dog slouching and jerking through the long grass. It moved as if it were dragging something. Iris cocked her head and tried to get a better look by using her free hand to wipe away the condensation that clung desperately to the glass for dear life to get a better look.

“Whatcha looking at Iris?” Milly’s voice asked somewhere behind her as she craned her neck to watch the animal look slowly into the ebony forest. The sound of little footsteps made Iris look away from the canine. Milly was on her tippy toes trying to get a glance as well. 

“Well Milly I think it’s a dog,” Iris explained and picked the little girl up and hoisted her onto her hip so they could watch together. The dog was nearly out of sight but when Iris spoke it froze in its tracks and lifted its massive head to turn in their direction and if the nineteen year old didn’t know any better, she could’ve swore it was staring right at them. Iris could see clearly now it was the largest Rottweiler she’d ever seen and despite being safely inside her home, couldn’t stop the hairs from standing up on her forearms and neck suddenly. 

“Awe a doggie, let’s go outside and pet him!” Milly squealed with delight, trying to wiggle out of Iris’s arms. Iris held onto the small child with everything she had, fear seizing up in her chest.

The gargantuan mammal picked something up and even though the animal was several yards away, there was no mistaking what it had in its’ jaws as it wagged its tail and gave her an eerie anthropomorphic grin. A small human torso with shreds of a shirt covering it, decapitated and devoid of anything anatomical below the waist hung from the massive creature’s dark wet muzzle. Iris’s blood stopped cold at the realization and suddenly she turned away from the window, a scream in her throat and her heart somewhere on the floor. 

“Wh-what’s wrong Iris?” There was panic in the six-year old’s voice as Iris guided her away from the window and towards the kitchen table, insisting suddenly that coloring would be much more fun. 

“Nothing sweetie we just don’t want to go messing with strange animals. Wait- you saw the dog too?” If the child saw the dog too than Iris wasn’t hallucinating. 

“Yeah of course silly. What was he carrying? I couldn’t see- “Milly tried looking around Iris who was blocking the window from sight with her body, bracing herself in case the girl tried to run past her.

“Oh um, he just had a pillow. It’s getting dark out the doggie is probably getting ready for bedtime,” Iris pulled out her cellphone and dialed the emergency number. “Hey um Mills I need you to sit here and color okay? I need to call my friend in the other room. I’ll be right back okay?” Milly watched her with distrusting green eyes but shrugged her tiny shoulders and picked up a yellow crayon and went back to her drawing.

Running a hand through her maroon locks and pushing her bangs out of her face, Iris hit the call button. The resonating ringing on the other line went on for millennia before a female voice finally answered. 

“911 what is your emergency?” The tone sounded uninterested and dreary. 

“I- I just saw a dog in my backyard,” Iris suddenly couldn’t find the words, bile rising in her throat. 

“Ma’am are you in danger?” the woman sounded annoyed.

Iris took a deep breath, her voice dropping to a whisper. “No um, It.. it was carrying a torso… into the Barrens.”

An exaggerated sigh on the other line sent Iris’s resolve into shatters. “Ma’am do you realize prank calling the police is a crime?”

“No no it’s not a prank please-“There was a loud click and the line went dead. 

Tears were streaming down the young woman’s face as she sat the phone down with shaky hands. The doorbell rang and Iris nearly leapt out of her skin.   
**

It had awoken six years early. The scent of something delicious reverberated from the creature’s nasal passages through every single cell of the body it inhabited in this plane of existence. There was only one thing that could bring it from slumber prematurely, some atrocious act that shook the ground with brutality. Bones snapped and cracked as hard black insect carapace replaced itself with silvery silk cloth, spider-like mandibles retreating into an alabaster white and red painted humanoid face. The eldritch entity had no name although it introduced itself as Pennywise to the victims of the clown persona it had stolen to entice children. It had also adopted the act of referring to itself as male to humans. Pennywise rolled his neck experimentally, testing the two single limbs that replaced the usual eight. It was neither male nor female in it’s true form, which was something incomprehensible in this dimension but unfortunately, he had to play by this timeline’s rules, therein limiting his powers over the space time continuum that it normally possessed. Of course, that was naturally infuriating- it was a Glamour, the Eater of Worlds after all and occasionally the sewers shook with the roars of his rage when things did not work out favorably.

The town of Derry had become a feedlot unbeknownst to its denizens, carefully tended to; it’s people ignorant sheep, happily living their meaningless lives as humans did until the wolf that tended the flock awoke from its slumber to collect the harvest, wiping their memories when the slaughter was over. The web that the monstrous alien had spent years weaving was strong and kept the herd quiet and complacent. It had learned many things being on this planet despite being eons old and one of the most vital was that stressed livestock did not thrive, did not reproduce and the young were absolutely the tastiest.

And there was something waiting just outside the tunnels, begging and crying out for mercy, it’s flesh overly ripened with the scent of fear already. Saliva gathered at the corners of the clown’s mouth as he lurked through the dark sewage towards the sound with a low growl. 

It wasn’t until after Pennywise had finished his meal and was curled up lazily back in the nest he called home prepping to begin the yearly hunt that accompanied his awakening that a whiff of something else caught his attention. Something inhuman. 

Who would dare intrude on his stomping ground?

The clown searched through the pipes, following the smell like a bloodhound until he found the source. It was a dwelling just outside the Barrens. Invisible, he investigated the human that smelled of otherworldliness who was knelt over a row of pink plants. 

He stayed in the sewer and watched, content that whatever the scent was, the human could not see him. It was a female, with maroon hair and pale skin. She wasn’t a child but not an adult either, her face still round with baby fat but her legs were shapely, and her childbearing hips were only beginning to show.

Pennywise watched her through narrowed amber eyes, mind reeling. There were no other Glamours, although there were other things in this world and certainly other things that could take on the form of a human. This area was a door for other dimensions and occasionally a thing or two would come tumbling through. It wasn’t until the human looked up and the clown was met by a pair of deep violet eyes that almost seemed to be looking through him, that his hackles began to raise.   
Upon closer inspection, the not human had an aura around her that Pennywise had completely ignored. It was as if she was surrounded by a shimmering mist that extended a few feet in either direction and was almost invisible. It also dawned on him in the same moment that he could not read her mind like he could all his prey. 

Claws extending and mouth impossibly elongating, he slipped out from the storm drain. He would use this form to tear out the not human’s throat and see if she bled. Whatever she was, he would figure it out as he picked his teeth with her bones.  
The second the monstrous being got within arm’s length of the mist it began to crackle with energy. He noted this and slowed, still invisible as he cocked his head and reached a hesitant black talon towards the cackling aura that was now swirling around the not human almost furiously. She continued what she was doing, completely unaware. 

There was nothing on this measly ball of dirt that could hurt the Eater of Worlds, he had seen to that. And yet the moment he reached for the girl, he was met with a shock that caused a confused yelp to escape his maw and he leapt back in awe, taking in the newfound information. It did no lasting damage, but it had hurt. The clown hadn’t felt pain since the Losers had attacked him, but he’d taken care of them. They had left Derry and grown up, forgetting all about him, leaving him to his slumber.

He raised an angry paw to swipe at the shield but it began to crack and writhe like liquid lightening and he thought better of it, bringing his arm down and watched as the fog dispersed and went back to churning around the girl calmly.

The clown’s grin split halfway up his face as he giggled juvenilely. “What an interesting beasty you are…”

This little lamb had a nasty secret. Pennywise felt bewildered but ever intrigued by her. He enjoyed nothing more than the thrill of the hunt and the hunt had just gotten much more interesting. 

He turned to leave. This one would require more thought and strategy than he was used to. The clown was nearly to the storm drain when a gasp pierced the air. Had she seen him? 

Pennywise couldn’t read her thoughts sure, but the undisputed tang of fear was saturating the air and it sent shivers down his spine. It was unlike anything else he’d ever encountered; it was so pure and delectable, and it was like hitting a brick wall. Long strings of drool were hanging off his chin when he turned wild eyed back to her, instinct winning over reason and he was suddenly on all fours like a cougar that had just scented blood. The flowers in her hands were pouring blood from them and that was surprisingly enough to stop him in his tracks. 

His large white brow furrowed as he watched the scene unfold. He wasn’t doing this. Who was making this happen? Her? 

A large shiny red balloon sprang from the center of one of the crimson soaked plants and rose into the air. A wave of anger rumbled through Pennywise. That was his calling card. What was this little not human getting at? He momentarily considered showing himself to her but thought better of it. He couldn’t even touch her, at least this way he had the element of surprise. 

“Come play with us pretty lady… Pretty flowers for a pretty lady…” a child’s voice it did not recognize whispered playfully to the young woman who was frozen to the spot. 

The moment he got close again, intent on ripping her head off her shoulders, the haze whirled and thundered in retaliation as if daring the Glamour to try it again and despite everything, intellect won over instinct and the clown backed off again, snarling at her and sulking away to the sewers. 

That evening, he killed a girl-child with a large facial birthmark, imagining her eyes were violet instead of blue as her blood splashed on his suit.


	3. Chapter 3

A shrill ringing woke Iris from her heat induced nap. It was sometime in the afternoon and it was day three of the air conditioning being out in the house, leaving the dwelling a sweltering eighty-five degrees and climbing. The air was thick and humid and clung to her sweat soaked skin like another layer of clothing. The young woman sat up from the couch, disturbing Shawshank who had been stretched out on the cool wooden floor like mindedly sleeping off the heat. The cat gave her an angry meow and plopped down a few feet away by the armchair to lick his fur indignantly.

  
“Hello?” She wiped her sweaty brow as she picked up her cellphone. She was hoping it would be the repairman she’d called the day before and hadn’t heard anything from since. People in this town had a bad habit of never calling her back it seemed. Unfortunately, it was Mrs. Brown. Iris could only assume she was looking for a last-minute babysitter. 

  
The woman’s tone was frantic. “Is Milly with you?” Iris perched the phone on her shoulder, using her face to hold it to her ear as she gathered her damp hair in both hands before tying it up into a messy bun with the scrunchy she’d placed on her wrist. She had taken her hair down after she’d decided it was just too damn hot to remain conscious. Iris was not the type of person who could sleep with her hair up or with socks on no matter the weather conditions. 

  
“Oh um, no she’s not Karen.” Iris explained, her pulse quickening as she dropped her arms and took the phone back into her hand. “Why, is everything okay?” 

  
She stood up, her spaghetti strap shirt and jean shorts sticking to her and making her even more uncomfortable. Mrs. Brown began rambling almost incoherently about her daughter playing in the yard one moment and the next, she was gone. “I’ve called the police and they’re on their way, oh God my poor baby!” She wailed into the phone receiver. 

  
As if in a daze, Iris found herself heading for the backyard, the air inhospitable as she slipped into some old sneakers and slid open the glass patio door, muttering something to Karen about going to look for her daughter and hanging up unceremoniously. Milly was known to wander off occasionally, it struck Iris as odd the way she was acting but that only encouraged her to walk faster towards her destination. The Barrens were dry and dead this time of year; the grass brown and curled, crying out silently for moisture and all the wildflowers that normally dotted the marshes in patches of purples and yellows were black and wilted away. Despite the arid climate and dying fauna, she felt compelled to head further into the taupe landscape despite the brush clawing at her exposed legs like long talons, leaving angry red marks across the white planes of flesh as she continued forward. Something she couldn’t explain was practically dragging her further away from the safety of her home and into the desolate landscape.

  
The frantic call of blackbirds overhead brought her out of the trance sometime later and Iris was suddenly hyperaware of just how alone she was. As a girl, she had ventured into the Barrens on numerous occasions and despite her lack of real meaningful friendship, she was not unaware what happened amongst the reeds and rocks. All children did. It was a place that adults ignored just like their children and therefore, the perfect place for teenage revelry and trouble making. Here and there, a stray cigarette butt or ancient beer can was tucked among the loose stones or tufts of dead grass. Years of footprints were permanently etched into the dirt where groups of young people had converged to smoke pot or carve their names into the trunks of gnarled trees. Occasionally during the summer Iris would hear the ‘pop’ of a gun, no doubt a stolen firearm from some bold teenager’s family gun safe. 

  
There was a rustle in the grass to her left and she whipped her head up. Here, the trees thinned out to a point, leaving little to no plant life besides the low growing bushes and knee-high grasses that planted prickly kisses along Iris’s calves as she came to a standstill. There was a rusty brown sewer pipe sticking up out of the foliage at a forty five degree angle, a long forgotten aspect of the ancient sewage line that used to run through Derry before millions of tax dollars were quite literally poured into the drains to accommodate the yearly floods and increased waste that came with the ever rising human population. Iris vaguely remembered her father at one point complaining about their basement flooding with water and shit once when she was only a few years old.

  
A loon somewhere in the distance gave a soft cry and the wind seemed to die completely. 

“Hello?” Iris called out to no one in particular. A black fly buzzed past her, threatening to land on her left breast for a moment before deciding against it at the last millisecond and flew off out of sight. “Milly?”

  
“Hello lamb.” 

  
A smooth male voice behind her caused the young woman to whirl impossibly fast on her heel to face where the voice had come from. Leaning nonchalantly against the nearest tree a few feet away was a man dressed in a silver Victorian style clown suit. His face was impossibly white with vermillion accents, twin red lines painted from the corners of his mouth up onto the apples of his cheeks and ending just above his eyebrows. It reminded Iris of blood that that had dripped onto freshly fallen snow and left her feeling queasy. The hair on his head stuck out at random intervals like a mad scientist’s and his eyes were the most brilliant shade of baby blue. Even from a distance she could see the color standing out in stark contrast to the rest of his features. The clown gave her a toothy grin, the bells on his sleeve jingling as he waved from where he stood. He was easily over six feet tall and had to make a conscientious effort to look down at her even from a distance. Despite everything, he was almost seemed like he belonged in the Barrens, or in Derry (Iris couldn’t pinpoint which) the way one might picture a crocodile basking itself on the sun-dried banks of the Nile river. It was unnerving but not somehow unsurprising. 

  
The hairs on her neck stood instantly. Despite the comical ensemble, Iris found him to be anything but funny. It was as if someone had tried to recreate what a clown looked like from memory, but the recollection was something from a nightmare; almost getting the image right, but with a hint of something ancient and positively predatory. As if to draw one in with promises of candy only to find razorblades hidden in the chocolate. 

  
“Who are you?” Iris found herself taking a step back. She was not stupid and everything in her was screaming for her to run back home. 

  
“Why,” the clown brought himself upright and stood to his full height before bringing his torso down into a bow, glancing up at her with a playful grin before continuing. “I’m Pennywise the dancing clown of course! But I am more interested in who you might be.” 

  
Iris watched as he took a step towards her and she matched his with a step back of her own. 

  
“I don’t think that’s any of your business mister. I-I need to get going. I’m looking for someone.” Her voice came out surprisingly strong despite the fact she was shaking. Iris wasn’t necessarily afraid, but she was on high alert and was weighing her options like a feral cat that was debating the fight-or-flight reflex. 

  
“I know. I've been watching you with the girlchild in your little kitchen. I brought you here.” His unreadable features suddenly broke into a cantankerous laugh before he belted out a howl that sounded exactly like Karen’s. “I’ve called the police and they’re on their way, oh God my poor baby!” He mimicked with fake tears and Iris gazed at him in horror which seemed to delight him even further. His full ruby red lips looked ready to split he was smiling so hard. His thoughts seemed to take him elsewhere for a split second as a thin line of saliva dripped towards the earth from his chin, almost as if he were thinking of something delicious. "Did you know she's been afraid of dogs ever since the other day? I wonder what could have set her off!" He giggled juvenilely. 

  
“Who- what?” Iris’s mind was reeling. Had he seen the dog in her yard too? Or wait... was he the dog? “You called me? Where’s Milly?”

  
“The girlchild is fine. Of course, that can always change,” the clown’s eyes were mischievous like a little kid with a funny secret. “But this matter does not need to involve her. No no no this is about you not-human…” As he spoke, he began prowling through the weeds in a lazy circle around Iris who watched him suddenly unable to move a muscle as if she was being held there by some unseen force. She imagined this must be how an antelope feels as it’s cornered by a lion. Pennywise did move much like a predatory feline, Iris noticed. Almost inhuman the way the muscles under the grey silk bunched and relaxed as he walked. His eyes were no longer blue the closer he moved, instead a raw amber color tinged in the same hue of red that he wore on his face. Had she imagined the color or had the shade truly changed? Surely, she could not have imagined such an important detail.

  
“Not-human? What are you talking about? What the Hell are you?” Her voice was the only thing that had not abandoned her, much to her chagrin. He still circled her closely but never got any closer, choosing to keep his distance and gauge his options, she noticed. 

  
“What the Hell are you?” He mocked with a pseudo-angry frown before snarling and baring his pointed teeth at her. When did they become pointed? His mood changed again, that same lip splitting grin plastering itself to his face as he regained control of himself. “In all my endless years I have never met such a funny little thing. What do you call yourself not-human?” 

  
“I-Iris. Why did you bring me all the way out here? What do you want from me?” There was some sternness to her voice which felt reassuring. 

  
“How interesting that my powers should work on you when I’m not trying to rip your head from your shoulders,” his tone was curious and bemused as he stopped just short of Iris’s peripheral vision.

  
“You… you’re doing this?” Her voice faltered, rising barely above a squeak as she realized he was somehow holding her in place despite not even coming within a meter of her. Iris was not religious but found herself wondering what kind of Hellish demon this creature must be that held her quite literally spellbound. 

  
There was movement to her left and a yowl from the clown, and he leapt several feet away, eyes wild and baring his teeth again. 

  
“Little brat! I’ll eat your beating heart out of your chest!” He spat with a swipe of his hand. Of course, the movement didn’t reach the girl, but it did waft the air around her, causing a breeze to break against her flesh. Somewhere deep in her gut, Iris was feeling almost reassured despite the fact she was trembling like a leaf. 

  
“I’m not doing anything! Please just let me go mister,” Iris pleaded as her courage faltered. 

  
Pennywise was approaching her again, low to the ground and almost scuttling like some sort of arachnid or crustacean while watching her through narrowed eyes. The clown cocked his head uneasily but pressed forward despite whatever happened out of her vision that had made him retreat before. Had she hurt him? And if so- how? She was physically incapable of moving except to breathe and even then, she found it was rather difficult to exhale completely as if there were unseen ropes holding her fast and tight. 

  
The clown was now only a few feet away, the only sound was the grass shifting and being crushed underfoot as he closed in on her. The sunshine filtered through the messy tresses of his hair, casting soft shades of red and yellow throughout making it look like a wildfire set atop his head.

  
“I- I don’t want to hurt you again. Please stay back.” Iris wasn’t trying to sound desperate, but she did not want to anger whatever this creature was. She was too far in the Barrens to try to scream for help and her cellphone was sitting on the kitchen counter, safely tucked away in the house like Iris should be. 

  
“Why you insolent little pest- I am the Eater of Worlds! I am eternal and I own this pitiful planet I can swallow up your entire species if I so choose!” His voice was rash and brazen, like a hive of angry wasps daring Iris to continue to poke the nest. His face distorted just under the skin, as if something just under the surface was trying to physically break through.

  
She swallowed hard and tried to think straight. She may not have understood the situation nor what exactly was holding her captive, but she believed every word he said. 

  
“Okay look you said so yourself, your powers only work when you’re not trying to hurt me. Have you considering trying not to?” Was she trying to help him or simply appeal to his better nature? Iris wasn’t so sure. How silly she felt, attempting to help the clown see simple child’s logic. 

  
“Hmm…” The clown seemed to ponder the idea momentarily, raising a white gloved hand to his chin and tapping it on the flesh there before turning his gaze back to the young woman in front of him with the smirk equivalent of a horror movie violin screech. His eyes were blue again and when he smiled, Iris noticed his teeth were blunt and human-like. Was this entire being an illusion he could just change on a whim?

Or was it based on his mood perhaps?

  
Pennywise shot up onto his feet faster than Iris was capable of processing and a gasp fell from her lips as he stood in front of her still smiling a second later. He blinked and bit his lip as if second guessing his options before oh so hesitantly extending his hand in her direction, palm up as if he planned to take her hand in his own and kiss the back of it like in one of those cheesy old school films. His hand was still several feet away, but something changed and they both knew it. Iris couldn’t explain nor understand how but it was as if his appendage had passed through some sort of invisible barrier. Pennywise’s own mouth opened ever so slightly and he seemed to be holding his breath as he continued to inch closer to Iris’s immobile form. 

  
Iris inhaled quickly and started to say something before the clown cut her off. 

  
“Don’t say anything.” He was concentrating so hard on the task at hand, the phrase came out as one run-on word as if he couldn’t be bothered properly annunciating his wording. _Dontsayanythin_. Iris wondering momentarily if it truly took that much strength not to snap someone’s neck. Maybe for him it did.

  
She could only watch as an eternity later, the smooth silken cloth of his gloved fingertips delicately brushed up against the skin of her cheek. If she hadn’t been watching, she might not have even known he’d touched her it was so light- like a butterfly landing on her flesh. 

  
Whatever spell had been cast between the two humanoids broke suddenly and the noise that elicited from Pennywise was something between a strangled roar and a venomous hiss and just as quickly as he had stood to his feet a few moments ago, he was thrown back towards the tree he’d originally been leaning against when she came upon him. Whatever held Iris in place dissipated and she found herself unable to stand, collapsing in a crumpled heap onto the dry brown earth. Rocks dug into her knees as she fought to breathe, and a loud ‘pop’ drew her attention. Where Pennywise had been a second ago, a plume of dark purple smoke stood, rapidly dispersing into the air as he vanished. 

  
Iris clambered to her feet like a newborn fawn and took off like a rocket towards her house, too terrified to look back to see if anything was following. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to make this story more of a priority as I wrap up another project I'm working on!


	4. Chapter 4

The nasty little witch!

  
Pennywise was stalking through the large cavern that made up his nest, kicking a rusty tricycle from the pile of toys and children’s things that lined his sleeping place. The bent metal flew across the cave and hit a pile of rocks with impossible speed, the loud protest of the bike crying out and reverberating off the walls. 

  
Nothing could hurt him, Pennywise had seen to that! Had destroyed the others like him and had hunted down anything that dared show up to disturb him. When those _Losers_ had attacked him, he had actually been injured and even though he had healed, awoken alive and strengthened, there was still so much hatred for them he found it hard to maintain his form when he thought of them, his face stretching and manipulating between something almost human and something unperceivable to human eyes. He knew they would return- they had made their promise and Pennywise knew there was strength in belief. A grave lesson he had learned that had nearly cost him his life. 

  
Fear was not something the entity could fathom until they stood against the clown and even now was something worming its’ way deep into the Deadlights. _Would eat it if it were a physical manifestation! Would rip_ _it limb from limb until it was no more!_ Fury was beginning to fill the chest cavity of the clownsbody; so much hatred it began to bubble over and expand like one of the infamous red balloons that were Pennywise’s trademark. This form could not hold the animosity- the rancor that was filling It and it forced the clownsbody to change. The brats! How carefully the creature had cultivated this little paradise, learned from mistakes made over the decades to make the perfect feeding ground- preening and grooming the humans like they were a private orchard with fruits abound, ripe and ready to be plucked and devoured with little effort. 

  
It snarled and bared pointed teeth at the vast emptiness of Its dwelling. And now this- this... Other! _ Like the turtle? _ She was something different, something It had never seen before. A hiss managed through the elongated clenched jaws as the black talons of something almost prehistoric snatched a disembodied leg from the floating mass of bodies above and threw it. The decomposing flesh landed against the cave wall with a sick wet noise and rolled a few feet before landing in a pile of broken bones and wasted meat.

  
The Glamour did not want much out of life. Simply to continue Its cycle for the rest of time. Hunt, sleep, hunt, sleep, hunt, sleep… It had carved out a home for itself on this ball of mud, grown so accustomed to this lifestyle and now it seemed the universe itself was working against everything It had built.

  
The clown, resembling something far less humanoid and more grotesque horror, roared in frustration before landing on all eight of its black insectoid legs, the tarsus on each front appendage now ending in sharp daggers rather than claws. Settling down into the nest, It pondered the options. The girl, _the not-human_ would need to be dealt with. This form was something closer to Its true essence and was not constrictive like the others. Now It could think- could plan; It did not like to dress up while at home and there was nothing to hunt. 

  
Hunt… The word hung on the black fleshy tongue of the gargantuan monster A wide, horribly sanguine grin split the ancient horror’s cranium in two equal halves divided by fangs the size of knives as a perilous idea formed deep in its twisted brain. 

  
It needed to hunt, oh yes it did. But this would be a different sort- a kind of hunt It had not done in many many years since It had found the clownsbody.

  
**  
It was a dream. It had to be. 

  
At least that is what Iris told herself as the week continued without incident. The air conditioning finally got fixed and Iris quickly threw herself back in her usual routine. The weather cooled off and it was raining almost incessantly. The dry dilapidated foliage of the Barrens began to slowly come alive again, furiously drinking up the life-giving water as quickly as it could fall from the sky. It had been without for so long and now slowly it was healing as if by magic overnight. Shriveled browns were quickly replaced by a thousand brilliant shades from kelly green to viridian and every morning for the last week Iris had been woken up by the pitter patter of rain on her bedroom window and birds singing away in the trees as if they too were giving thanks to whatever deity had broken the dry spell. It felt almost rejuvenating to the girl as she watched the place she had spent so much of her childhood be restored to its’ formal green glory.

  
Surely it was pure coincidence that twice as many children had gone missing this week. 

  
The idea that somehow the two were connected made Iris feel ill. 

  
The girl sat on her covered porch with a steaming mug of tea and watched rain fall in an unsettling mist. It was like a last-ditch effort to continue to downpour but the fine droplets that clung to Iris’s skin were all that it had left. School was in full swing and the weather was too wet for gardening which left little to do. To her left, a half-forgotten newspaper laid open, halfhearted circles drawn around a few ‘Help Wanted’ ads. She’d called several of these places, but none had called her back. Her savings account was running dry and she still flinched even considering touching her father’s money he spent his whole life hoarding like some fleshy pink beer-bellied dragon. 

  
She absently rubbed a hand over her arm where an angry red rash had broken out overnight, trying her best to avoid digging her nails into the pruritic skin there. The flesh was seeping from little yellow pustules that dotted the inflamed area like some sickly constellation. Iris sighed, the noise cutting off with an annoyed huff. She would have to make a run into town for a remedy, lest the crawling itchiness drive her insane. 

  
Setting down her tea and simultaneously standing, Iris wandered inside to look for her shoes.

  
There was a little pharmacy a few blocks over, and the rain had all but ceased despite the angry grey clouds rolling across the sky, so she decided to walk. A little exercise never hurt. Iris called out to Shawshank and let him know she was leaving. 

  
_“Sure thing sweetie, look both ways before crossing the street!”_ She imagined him saying with a wave and she snorted. The orange feline didn’t even look up from where he was sleeping on the living room rug. 

  
The walk was brief and within minutes Iris was standing in the first aid isle of Center Street Drug Store trying to find what she needed. She was crouched down, her skinny jeans creaking as she shifted her weight. Spotting the single bubblegum pink bottle she was looking for, she grabbed it with a satisfied smile and stood, bumping into something- or rather someone behind her. 

  
She turned on her heel impossibly quick, nearly jumping out of her skin. There standing behind- now in front of her was a man. Iris quickly muttered an apology, her face falling in embarrassment. She had dropped the bottle of calamine lotion in her terror and it rolled by his feet as she watched it. His expensive looking leather shoes were mere inches from her worn sneakers. 

  
“Excuse me,” his voice was alight with amusement as she scrambled to pick up her purchase. She could feel her ears turning bright red as she stood again and finally managed to look this stranger in the face. 

  
Iris almost gasped. He was attractive- no. He was flawless. He had the kind of facial structure of one of those elegant marble statues from ancient Greece and for a flickering moment, Iris wondered if he really was some sort of archaic God somehow miraculously captured in human form. His brunette hair was combed neatly out of his face and God Almight his face… He had high cheekbones, full rose-colored lips, a cleanshaven jaw line that would leave any woman weak at the knees, and a pair of brown eyes that didn’t seem to match his face. Like they belonged to something much older and wiser than the man whose skull they inhabited. It was almost unsettling how handsome he was, or perhaps that uneasy feeling that was causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up was the almost red tint to his eyes suddenly. Were they red or was it the light catching them? 

  
Iris let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding as he looked her up and down with a fleeting glance. 

  
“Hello.” 

  
“H-hi.” She could barely find her voice and what managed to come out was hushed as though she was afraid if she spoke too loudly, she would frighten away this beautiful creature. This was not a man she’d ever seen in Derry but there was a sudden oh so fleeting feeling of familiarity drifting out of her mind just as quickly as it entered. 

  
“You too?” There was the smallest smirk playing on the edges of his mouth as he watched her. There was sweat forming on her forehead, and she was thankful she’d worn her hair down to cover her nervousness. He was so close to her she could count the freckles that dusted his cheeks.

  
“I’m sorry, what?” She was having a hard time recollecting how to form sentences as his scent suddenly filled her lungs. It clung to her insides and made her brain fuzzy. He smells sweet and homey almost. Like her kitchen after an evening of baking with Milly.

  
He pointed at the calamine lotion gripped loosely in her hand and chuckled. “The poison ivy this year is terrible. I swear I look at the stuff and break out.”

  
The realization hit her finally and she shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Oh um, yeah…” she chuckled nervously, running her free hand through her hair. “It’s the craziest thing. I just woke up with it this morning I don’t even know where it came from.”

  
One of his perfectly groomed eyebrows arched as he looked past her and then frowned. “I’d be more careful if I were you, it looks like that’s the last bottle. Make it last.” Iris managed to look away long enough to glance to the empty place on the shelf and then back up to the handsome stranger with a sheepish look. 

  
“Here, you can have it. I have to run into town anyway I can just pick some up later.” Iris lied, not wanting him to go without. He was dressed in black slacks and a white button down shirt; by the looks of his attire and the way he stood so confidently he probably had just gotten off work from his six figure job in one of the neighboring cities and was stopping in this dingy little store out of convenience before heading home to his house that cost more money than Iris would ever touch in her whole life. 

  
“Are you sure?” There was a light in his eyes as he spoke. Iris wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or confusion, but she shook her head and gave him a dismissive shrug of the shoulders, holding the now warm plastic up for him with one hand. She prayed he wouldn’t notice how clammy it was due to her perspiration. 

  
His eyes didn’t leave hers as his own large hand covered her own and a string of electric zinged up her up and spread through her with the skin contact. His hand wasn’t damp like hers but it shocked Iris not because it had been especially warm or cold no- it was unusually lukewarm. Like frozen meat being dethawed in warm water. It lingered there on her skin for a moment before he released his hold on her with a smile. 

  
“Such a sweet little thing.” He flashed her a dazzling smile that left Iris feeling winded before turning and disappearing down the aisle without another word, leaving Iris standing there empty handed and struggling to catch her breath. Did that really just happen, or did she dream that up? A warm feeling spread through her as she went over the conversation in her mind over and over. And the smell of him… she could never come up with that on her own; that definitely happened. She stood there chewing her lip recanting the look in his eyes. No one had ever looked at her that way and even though she doubted she would ever see that handsome stranger ever again, the interaction had left her with an unusual deep sense of bewilderment and pride. She never was good at talking to boys. Hell, Iris wasn’t good at talking to anyone and those that she did talk to, she wouldn’t hear from again. It was like some sort of curse she had growing over the years. Funnily enough, the only people who didn’t seem to forget who she was were the elderly people in Iris’s neighborhood. Even her own parents occasionally seemed surprised to see her walk in the door if she was gone particularly long when she was younger. 

  
As Iris started to leave herself to begin the trek back home, she noticed a cardboard sign hanging up by the door with the words ‘Help Wanted’ written in scribbled black Sharpie. How had she missed that on the way in? She smiled and headed towards the counter, feeling more hopeful than she had in weeks. 


End file.
